Bury My Heart
by dreamer-girl-reana
Summary: The deal with the Natives seemed like a good plan, and benefited the entire club. What nobody had been expecting was how it would benefit their Sergeant-at-arms' personal life.  Tig/OC
1. A New Deal

_A/N:__ Alright! So, here's the first chapter of my Tig story. As with the Chibs one, this is more like a trial run to see if anybody gives a shit. That said, this story is pretty fun to write. Writing characters who just don't give a shit is always entertaining. Plus, I feel like there's a lack of good Chibs or Tig stories...anyways. Read, review, all that jazz._

From her place in the adjacent trailer, surrounded by guns and gun parts she had yet to assemble, Kaya watched the white men disappear into the trailer where they made the ammo. She wasn't surprised to see them following Ashkii, his mother had seriously screwed up when she'd left all the bullets in her SUV. Particularly when she knew that it was in danger of being repossessed. From what Kaya could tell, they were more than a little interested in getting a piece of the action, which was fine by her. So long as they didn't try to do anything stupid. She'd seen enough death and violence to know exactly what happened when deals like this went south. Quickly she finished up the AK that she'd been assembling, putting it onto a rack with the others and drawing all the curtains. She locked the trailer door behind her, and waited for the group to exit again. Everybody looked pretty happy, even Ashkii, who was doubtless pleased with their new business partners.

When he saw her, however, the smile faded slightly.

"These are—" he began, Kaya holding a hand up and tapping her lips.

He cleared his throat nervously, throwing an anxious glance at the tall, grey haired man standing a foot or two behind him. There was a younger guy with faintly ginger hair, and a middle aged guy with dark curly hair. For a moment, Kaya stared at the dark haired one, intrigued for a moment by the ice blue eyes, before Ashkii spoke up, using their native tongue.

"_They were the ones who repo'd Mama's car…they want into the bullet business. Black Elk even convinced them to get into the shrooms too—they'll buy and sell all of it._"

Kaya nodded, arms crossed lightly over her chest. Her gaze flickered back to the two accompanying younger men, noting the look in their eyes, "_Suppose they wanted to make sure the stuff was good, hm?_" she questioned, Ashkii nodding.

"_Black Elk let them try it…the two are staying here. The older one, he's the boss. He's going to go back and talk to his buyers, see how much they want._"

"_I hope you didn't tell them about the guns…res police are the only ones we sell to._"

Her voice had dropped low, the tone dangerous despite her calm look. Technically, she wasn't in charge of all this. The chief had decided on selling the bullets and guns, and Black Elk had offered up the shrooms he grew for 'medicinal' purposes. Crazy shaman was always getting the younger boys into trouble when he sold to them. Nevertheless, everyone knew that crossing her was a lot more dangerous than crossing the chief—she didn't take shit, and she'd kill you for even so much as thinking about double crossing the tribe. Hell, she'd beaten the shit out of people for much, _much_ less.

The older man looked between the two, almost disgusted. The youngest looked mildly intrigued, and the dark haired one just stared at her, eyes already glazing over. Shit, he must've taken _quite_ the handful for them to kick in so fast.

"_No! I'd never do that…it'd be crossing the wishes of the tribe. They have no idea_," he promised, Kaya nodding and ruffling his hair.

"You speak English? Or just sneaky bitch?"

Kaya's head snapped over, the old man glowering at her. Ashkii's eyes widened, and she sauntered over, body centimeters from him as she stared up at him. Golden coppery eyes, the color of sunset her mother had always said, bore into his brown ones, challenging him silently to try her patience again.

"Not very polite, old man," she purred, her voice quiet, but the undertone screaming of threats and dark promises to be fulfilled, "I think you better be a little more courteous to your new business associate. Particularly since I can pull the plug on your little deal whenever I want."

The look on his face changed to shock for a moment, before the glower returned, "Yeah, whatever. Speak English when we're around—can't have you plotting some crazy shit right under our nose."

"My land, my rules. Now get the hell out…you can leave them here. They'll be tripping their balls off in a minute anyways," she snapped, the older man glaring once more before turning and heading back to his bike.

Ashkii looked like he might just piss himself, "Kaya…you really shouldn't say shit like that. They're Sons," he muttered, Kaya shrugging. Ash was a good kid, and he tried to do what he was told—but as good as he was, his heart was too big for the rough life he lived. He was more spineless jellyfish than cold hearted killer. Hell, the only reason Kaya let him stay around was because she had a soft spot for the kid—they'd grown up together, and he was pretty much the only one on the reservation who wasn't too terrified of the little girl with the mean glare to play with her.

"Whatever. They try to piss on me again and call it rain, I'll kill one of them."

"And start a war? You're insane. Why don't you go finish that shipment of AK's…I'll make sure these two don't get into any trouble while they trip out."

For a minute, Kaya examined the two, setting her hands on her hips, "What're your names?" she questioned, the ginger one answering for them both.

"Half-Sack…this' Tig."

"Right…just don't do anything stupid. Ash'll watch you…see you boys around."

Kaya headed in the direction of Chief Kitchi's house. The reservation was run down as hell, more so than most even, but the Chief's house was the only one there that wasn't a complete shit hole. His wife, who was eerily similar in appearance to Kaya's dead mom, let her in without question. Nobody kidded themselves there, times were tough and they'd done what was necessary to survive. Kitchi was the political head, and kept their legal side clean and funded, but Kaya had become the one who did all the dirty work. At 26 years old, she'd been doing the reservation's dirty work since she'd been 15. She, thus far, was the only one around who had what it took to get the tough shit done so that they could stay afloat and protected.

"Kaya, what brings you here?" Kitchi was a middle aged man, with the deep copper skin that all their people had. His eyes were deep brown, warm and inviting, and his hair was inky black, cut close to his head.

"Nothing wrong I hope," he prompted when she didn't immediately reply.

"No…just thought you'd like to know Ashkii made a new deal…white men," she commented. Race hadn't ever been an issue for her—sure, she naturally resented the white men for screwing her people over, but it didn't matter, business was business regardless of color. However, Kitchi and some of the other older members of the tribe were particularly wary when dealing with white people.

"They're buying out bullets, and some of Black Elk's mushrooms," she said, Kitchi nodding thoughtfully.

"A fair price?" he questioned, Kaya nodding.

"They're Sons, part of that biker gang in town, but they're paying a fair price," she replied, Kitchii nodding thoughtfully.

"They won't be a problem, will they? I know that they can be…forceful, when they need to be."

"They're boss, Clay, is an asshole…pompous prick thinks he runs the world. It might be tricky…killing one of them isn't like killing one of the other dealers. It brings the backlash of the entire club, and we don't need that. But I'll rough them if they start getting out of line or too cocky," she replied, Kitchii nodding.

"So long as you're alright with it, then it's good with me."

Kaya nodded, bowing her head slightly and backing from the room, adding over her shoulder, "I'll be in the trailer finishing the guns for the Res Police."

With that, she left the house, heading back to the trailers where the illegal aspects of the tribe went on. She wasn't surprised to see that the two Sons were already starting to trip out, both grinning like idiots. With a brief shake of her head, Kaya disappeared back into the trailer. There were still another ten guns she had to assemble and clean, and then the entire shipment to pack up and give to Ashkii, who would take them to the res police. It took her a solid hour to get everything completed, and then a half hour to get all the AK's packed up neatly and disguised. Ashkii was waiting outside with the pickup and a couple of the younger boys, and Kaya handed the duffels off.

"I'll keep an eye on the Sons," she said, Ashkii nodding, a small grin on his lips.

"You have fun with them."

It wasn't too hard for her to find the ginger, Half-Sack. He was sitting, butt naked, in the medicinal mud pool. She stood silent for a minute, watching him give himself a rub down, muttering quietly and grinning like an idiot. Deciding that he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon, or trying to escape when he was wearing nothing but his birthday suit and a coating of mud, Kaya turned to try and find his friend. Tig was a little trickier to track down, but she found him just outside the main area, kneeling in the brush, one of the little dolls the elder women made clasped desperately in his hands. She didn't realize what he was doing until she was too close to turn back.

She stood still, listening to his quiet sobs as he repeated a little mantra under his breath, "Forgive me…I'm so sorry…"

Kaya was momentarily at a loss. She knew the eyes of a killer when she saw them, and this guy was definitely no stranger to doing dirty work. What the hell was he keeping to himself that would make him start sobbing like a child? Feeling a little bad for the guy, she set a hand on his shoulder.

He sobbed harder, before taking a shaky breath and turning to face her. For a moment he just stared at her, Kaya beginning to rethink her decision to try and comfort him. When he stood up, abandoning the doll he'd been holding, tears still leaking from those impossibly blue eyes, Kaya was about to tell him that he should get over it and pull himself together. Before she could, however, he grabbed her face, pulling her close and pressing his lips against hers. It took a brief moment to realize what he was doing, but when she did she quickly forced him off her. A resounding _crack_ sounded through the area as her hand connected with the side of his face, a scowl pulling at her lips.

Tig looked taken aback for the briefest moment, and confused as hell, but a grin quickly replaced the look of confusion, "You're beautiful," he purred, stepping closer to her, "Must be my savior."

If he'd been any less stoned, Kaya was fairly sure that she would've killed the crazy bastard then and there. But she didn't, and that had been the beginning of their strange relationship.


	2. Strange Circumstances

_**A/N:** Alright! I actually got pretty great feedback from the first chapter of this story, so I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed/added. Keep it up! I love hearing what you have to say about my work. I actually had this finished on Tuesday, because I'm having so much fun writing it, but didn't want to post it and leave the other 2 stories I'm working on hanging. Review and all that jazz! Enjoy (:_

When Tig finally woke up the next day, he half expected to find himself curled up in the grass outside. A minute passed as he tried to recall what exactly had happened the other day, pieces falling into place, others still missing. Groaning, he sat up, only to realize that he wasn't outside, but tucked into bed. He looked around the room, quickly recognizing that it wasn't his own. There was a massive dream catcher above the bed, the pattern intricate and decorated with beads, feathers and fur. A few paintings hung around the room, but it was otherwise fairly sparse. The place was dominated by the king size bed, a dresser in one corner, desk in another, window occupying the other wall. Confused, and suspicious of what the hell was going on, Tig pulled himself from the bed. Luckily, or unluckily, he wasn't sure which, he was still clothed completely. After he poked around the room a bit and found nothing suspicious, except for a handgun in the side table, Tig stepped out of the room. The space he walked into appeared to serve as a kitchen, dining room, living room hybrid. To the left was a kitchen area, the breakfast bar apparently serving as the dining room. To the right sat a TV with a couch and some chairs, not all of which were empty. Curled up on the couch, inky black hair splayed out behind her, was the woman from the other night. Searching for a name to match with her face, the only thing that came to mind was Kaya, and he had no idea if that was really her name, or just something that had popped up. He stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of him, and peered down at her. How the hell had he ended up in her bed, and she end up out here on a couch? Surely even when he was high he was more suave than that. Hell, he'd gotten more girls with less effort and way more drugs in his system. Reaching a hand down, he shook her shoulder to try and wake her. Her eyes snapped open, the oddest shade he'd ever seen, and before he could react, her arm had moved towards him.

Tig hissed, looking at his forearm where a nice gash now bled freely, "What the fuck?" he snapped, the woman blinking. She rubbed her face and slid the knife back under her pillow as though nothing had happened.

"Serves you right for fucking waking me up, asshole," she muttered, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes again.

Tig stared at her unmoving form, unable to believe this crazy woman had just _assaulted_ him, and had blamed it on her. Grabbing her shoulder, he forced her onto her back, glaring down at her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, crazy bitch?" he snapped, letting go of her to grab his arm again, "You just fucking _assaulted_ me with a knife!"

The woman seemed unimpressed, and stared at him, irritation evident on her face.

"This is how you usually thank people for taking care of you when you're high and giving you a place to sleep?" she retorted, the slightest edge to her voice, warning him to be careful with what he said. He ignored it.

"Nobody fucking asked you to take care of me," he snapped, daring a look at his forearm again. The wound was shallow, but that didn't mean it wasn't bleeding profusely. The woman narrowed her eyes, and Tig found himself staring at them again, trying to put a name to their color. They were amber, almost, but more like a sunset—they were too vibrant and alive to be defined with just one word.

"Quit staring, asshole," she snapped, sitting up straight and staring at him, lips pursed into a straight line, eyes still narrowed. Her focus shifted to the gash on his arm, and she rolled her eyes.

"Somebody should've warned me what a bunch of pussies you Sons are," she muttered, standing up. Tig glared, grabbing her arm again, but she'd finally had enough. The woman wrenched her arm free, hand colliding solidly with the side of his face. He had the vaguest sense that it wasn't the first time she'd slapped him—the sting was almost familiar.

"That's enough of the man handling, thank you very much," she snapped, "Touch me again and that little cut will be the least of your worries."

Tig was well aware that his mind should be focused on the fact that she'd just threatened to inflict severe bodily harm on him. Hell, the way they'd been at it he wouldn't have been surprised if she tried beat him half to death. However, he found his mind—and eyes—wandering places they shouldn't. It occurred to him that the woman standing before him, eyes murderous, a no-nonsense look on her face, was quite the looker. She was a head shorter than him, and petite, but she had curves in all the right places, and a rack to rival any of the girls who hung around the bar. Fuck, if he started getting excited, there was no doubt in his mind she really might just make good on that threat.

"You know…you're kind of hot when you're all pissed off and threatening my life," he pointed out. The comment, much to his joy, seemed to catch her off guard—if only for the briefest of moments.

The copper skinned woman recovered almost instantly and rolled her eyes, flicking her jet black hair over her shoulder and turning her back to him, "Dream on asshole."

Tig just grinned and followed her back towards the room he'd woken up in, and down a small hall to a bathroom. She pulled a box of first aid supplies from the cabinet, and pointed to the toilet, "Sit down, Princess," she ordered, Tig settling down on the closed toilet seat and watching her pull out gauze, disinfectant and some surgical tape. She didn't make any further comments, just pushed his hand away and set to work. It was pretty clear that whatever her role in the reservation was, she'd dealt with patching people up a few times before. Her hands moved quickly and precisely, cleaning his cut and bandaging it faster than even Chibs could.

"There, all better, Princess?" she questioned, putting a few pieces of surgical tape on the gauze to keep it in place. The woman piled the items back into the box and quickly returned it to the closet, Tig staying seated, looking over her work in mild awe. Hell, the cut really wasn't that bad, but she'd worked insanely fast. He wondered absently if Chibs was that fast when he was younger.

"You going to let me go back to sleep?" questioned the woman, standing in the doorway.

Tig finally realized that she looked about as tired and drained as he felt, and the tiniest hint of guilt prickled in his subconscious.

"Depends…you going to keep me company while you do?" he questioned, a grin spread across his lips.

The woman just rolled her eyes, "I'm good where I am. Hopefully you're enjoying keeping me from my own damn bed."

"You're always welcome back," he replied, the woman giving him a cursory glance, eyes wandering over his form.

"Yea…I'll pass. I don't think you're the 'keep your hands to yourself' type, and I don't feel like bandaging you up again when you try and get touchy."

Tig threw his hands up in the hair, biting back a grimace at the ache in his arm, "I wouldn't even think of it. You let me stay here, might as well let you use your bed," he replied.

She didn't take the bait, much to his chagrin, and headed out of the bathroom towards the living room, "I'll pass. But thanks, Tig."

"You're welcome…" he replied, searching his head for her name, "…Kaya?"

The woman paused, turning back to look at him for a moment, a smirk on her lips, "And here I thought you really _were_ mentally challenged. Glad to see you remember something. Now go back to sleep. I'll see you at a decent hour."

The older man chuckled as he watched her return to the couch, before he headed back to her comfortable bed. He was rather impressed with himself in all honesty. It was barely 5:30 am and he'd already had a successful encounter with a beautiful woman…and he had the battle wound to show for it. Kaya was intriguing, mysterious almost in her take-no-shit attitude. Why the fuck hadn't he met any women even _half_ as interesting as she was? Then and there, as Tig got back into bed, he decided that he'd pursue her, if only for the thrill of a good chase. Why the hell not? The prize was luscious, and the prospect was much too exciting to push from his mind.


	3. An Odd Dynamic

_**A/N:** Here it is, chapter 3! I'm kind of bummed that only 3 people reviewed, when there were over 200 people who read the chapter. I really love writing this story, because the Kaya/Tig dynamic is just too fun, but it's a little sad nobody want to take the time to review. Oh well. For those who have reviewed, keep them coming! They make me smile (:  
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The smell of bacon was what woke Tig up the second time, and not the crash of his mushroom-induced high. At first, he thought he was just hallucinating, some sort of aftershock from the high-quality drugs he'd ingested. But after a few minutes of consciousness, he realized that the sizzling noises and tantalizing smells were, in fact, coming from the small kitchen down the hall. The Sergeant-at-Arms dragged himself from bed, doing a half ass job of pushing the sheets into some semblance of order before he walked down the hall to investigate the smell. The cut on his forearm was mostly forgotten about after a good rest, but the sight before him caught the Sergeant-at-Arms partially off guard. Kaya stood in the kitchen, tank top and pajama shorts on, humming as she pushed bacon around in a pan. Hell, if she'd been wearing _that_ last night, he really must've been out of it.

"First aid service and breakfast? Shit, I didn't even have to fuck you…I ought to come around here more often and trip out," Tig commented, a lewd grin on his face. If his comment bothered Kaya, she didn't show any sign of it and took it like a champ.

"Imagine that, someone being a decent human being for no other reason than for the hell of it. What a concept. I bet ass holes like you don't comprehend that sort of high level intellectual shit," she shot back as she grabbed a big plate to pile the bacon onto. Tig chuckled and clicked his tongue in mock chastisement.

"That's not very polite to say to your guest," he retorted, leaning against the counter and watching her cook…but mostly letting his eyes wander over her figure. Shit, how the hell had he _not_ noticed she'd been half naked when she'd been bandaging him up? He was usually pretty fucking observant of that kind of thing, particularly when it was someone as out of reach as she was. The longer Tig thought about it, the more he realized she was pretty much off limits. The Natives were their business partners, and mixing business with pleasure usually didn't fly with Clay—though it hadn't stopped Tig from nailing those two Mexican girls who'd been working at their warehouse before it burned down. If that wasn't enough to make her unattainable, her surly, no-nonsense attitude would certainly push her out of reach. But hell, that had never stopped Tig before. The thrill of a good chase only turned him on and made him want her even more.

"More like freeloader," she retorted, fixing him a plate of eggs and bacon and handing it over to him before she fixed herself one. Tig took a seat at the breakfast bar, Kaya remaining in the kitchen, standing as she ate her breakfast. They didn't talk, each of them too busy with their breakfast to make any attempt at their snarky chit chat, but once the two had finished, Tig's sly grin was back in place. He watched as she rinsed of the dishes, bending down to put them in the dishwasher, the sudden tightness in his jeans more than enough reason to bend her over and fuck her senseless in her own kitchen. Somehow, however, the little voice of logic _not_ concerned with fucking everything female—dead or alive—won out, and he just watched her, leering at her from his seat where he could admire her body so well.

"Fucking me with your eyes isn't nearly as satisfying as actually fucking me," she drawled, straightening up and staring him down, one eyebrow raised.

Tig grinned, shifting his jeans slightly before he stood up, "I wouldn't start making those types of comments if I were you…" he drawled, Kaya just snickering.

"Right. You seem to forget that I'm not one of your little crow eaters, or sweet butts, or whatever the fuck you call those whores that degrade themselves just to get your protection. Try anything funny, I'll castrate you faster than you can cry for help," she purred, her soft, seductive voice a stark contrast to the threat she'd just dropped so casually. Despite that, the bulge in his jeans just got more pronounced, the Native American woman obviously not ignorant to that fact. She smirked and walked past him shaking her head as she moved.

"You're one sick fuck, Trager."

"Least I'm a good fuck. Makes up for me being so sick in the head," he retorted, Kaya waving it off.

"You can use the shower if you want. I'm leaving in twenty minutes, you better be out of my fucking house by then," she replied, as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

True to her word, Kaya had been dressed and ready within twenty minutes, her bedroom now tidied up. The hot little outfit she'd been wearing was replaced by more practical clothes that covered much too much skin in Tig's opinion. Shorts were replaced with jeans, tiny tank top replaced by a t-shirt, her hair braided down her back instead of flowing wildly like some sort of shadow monster. It didn't matter though, he could still see that hot little figure underneath the jeans and t-shirt, and it brought a grin to his lips.

She didn't need to speak for him to know he was supposed to follow her out of the house, which Tig did willingly. They walked through what was apparently the residential part of the reservation, Kaya heading back towards the mud spring where she'd last seen Tig's companion. Sure enough, he was where she'd left him the night before, fast asleep in the mud pool, clothes piled up on the ground behind him. Tig looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"What the fuck was he doing?" he questioned, Kaya shrugging.

"Don't know. But I'm thinking it had to do with the halfhearted hand job he was giving himself," she commented, watching as Tig approached the sleeping prospect.

"Hey! Sack! Get the fuck up man," he snapped, voice loud enough to wake the prospect with a sharp start, his eyes wide.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said quickly, looking up at Tig, confusion evident on his face.

"Tig? Jesus…what the fuck happened last night?" he questioned, the Sergeant-at-Arms rolling his eyes.

"No idea you crazy ass bastard, but you need to fucking take a shower," he muttered, Sack blinking up at him.

It appeared he hadn't noticed his predicament until just then, face turning red when he realized what sort of situation he'd found himself in after a long night of tripping out.

"Jesus Christ…" he muttered, scrambling out of the mud pool and trying to pull his clothes on before Kaya could see anything. The woman just rolled her eyes, pointing towards the woods.

"Ought to be a spring about half a mile into the forest that way," Kaya said, pointing to the small wooded area that the reservation had, "Wash up there, get decent, and get out."

The prospect looked to Tig for confirmation, the Sergeant-at-Arms nodded.

"Do what she says, Sack. We've got shit to do."

As the two waited for the prospect to clean himself up, it occurred to Tig that Kaya might've overheard his drug-induced ramblings. Though he couldn't quite recall what he'd been talking about, he knew that the guilt hanging heavy on his conscience over Donna's death was likely the topic. Kaya stood still, leaning against the small sign that declared the pit the "medicinal mud bath", apparently unaware of Tig's attention.

"Last night…I wasn't saying anything, was I?" he questioned, Kaya turning her head to glance at him.

She shrugged, "Saying anything? No…"

Before Tig had time for the relief to set in, however, she added a quick statement.

"But you were crying…telling one of the healing dolls that you were 'so sorry'…something like that. Why the hell else would I let you into my house?" she said, Tig frowning.

"I had hoped it was for my devilishly good looks and excellent skills in bed," he replied, a suggestive twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Kaya, eyes roaming over her body.

The woman just rolled her eyes, "I know a killer when I see one, Trager. Anyone as…experienced as you crying is a sad enough sight to make me feel bad. Don't flatter yourself."

Tig shot her a confused glance, unsure how she'd managed to glean that much information from him without talking to him at all. Before he could question her, however, Sack interrupted. He was cleaned off, body free of the mud that had previously covered him, and he was dressed again.

"Good to see you looking human again," Kaya drawled, straightening up.

"C'mon, I'll bring you to your bikes and you can get the hell out of here and leave me to my work," she said, the two Sons nodding as they followed her through the reservation again. Their bikes had been moved to a safer place, but near to the road so they wouldn't have to figure out how to get out.

"Sure you're not going to miss me, beautiful?" Tig questioned as he got onto his bike, Kaya arching an eyebrow.

"I'm sure I'll survive. There are plenty of people who I can attack with knives and take care of—you're not exactly anything extraordinary," she shot back, a grin on her lips, devious twinkle in her eyes.

Sack looked more than a tad confused, but decided, wisely, not to question Tig about their night, which apparently had been spent together.

"Try not to get too lonely while I'm gone," Tig said, ignoring her comment, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

The Native American woman snorted and rolled her eyes, "I'll try my hardest," she said sarcastically, watching as the two started their bikes up and headed down the road, disappearing into specks on the horizon. Kaya stood a few moments, staring off after them before she shook her head and turned back towards the trailers. She had guns to assemble and shipments to manage. They had to speed production up if they were going to keep selling to the Res Police _and_ the Sons.


	4. Unexpected Visitor

_**A/N:** Updated a little sooner than I'd expected...mostly because I'm having a lot of fun with the Kaya/Tig dynamic. It's just something new for me, and I'm enjoying it.  
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_Also, for those who read Child of Anarchy and My Fair Bonnie Lass, I'll try and get those updated tomorrow...I was just really inspired to work on this story during the weekend_.

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><p>"Thing that's hurtin' her the most is thinkin' you don't want her any more….I'll always have your back brother."<p>

It was the last thing that Tig had said to Clay, letting him know that whatever was going on between he and Gemma could be easily fixed, that she just needed to know he still wanted her, still loved her. From the commotion he'd heard passing the office, they'd obviously taken his advice and were patching things up. Tig was glad that things between Clay and Gemma would get better—the entire club felt off when they weren't on good terms. That, in combination with his own inner turmoil, Tig had been feeling very out of sorts. His head just wasn't screwed on right, or something. Between all the guilt that he still had over Donna's death, even after confessing to Opie, and the strange feeling he couldn't shake that he was somehow falling apart, the Sergeant-at-Arms was feeling very out of sorts.

Tig had gotten on his bike, unsure where he wanted to go, not really caring where he ended up. All he knew was that nothing was making sense, and he wanted it to stop. What the fuck had happened that had gotten him so bent out of shape? Telling Opie had fixed some of it, the crushing guilt was gone now, but nothing made any sense. He was falling apart, and he fucking hated it. This had _never_ happened. Tig had never gotten this emotional over stupid shit. He'd kill anyone, do anything that the club needed, no questions asked, no remorse felt…but now that was going straight to hell.

He didn't realize where he was until he saw a beat up group of trailers, a few young adults with copper skin and black hair exiting them, chatting casually. Without another thought, Tig followed the main road to the residential area, taking it as far as it went before he parked his bike and continued on foot. He wasn't sure how long it took him to find the house, all the little buildings looked so fucking similar. The only thing that distinguished the one he was looking for was the impossibly dark wooden door that stood in contrast to the weathered and pale doors that surrounded it. He found it surprisingly quickly, once he'd found the right stretch of houses, and quickly knocked on the door.

Tig prayed that she was home, though his head wasn't thinking straight and he had no logical reason to explain what had brought him here. Before he could change his mind and turn around, however, the door swung open. Standing behind it was Kaya, hair tousled and falling in waves to her waist, sweatpants and a tight tank top on, a confused look on her face when she realized who it was.

"Trager? What the fuck are y—"

But before she could finish her statement, however, Tig had stepped into the doorway. He reached out, grabbing her face and firmly pulling her towards him. No time for second thoughts or regrets, Tig pressed his lips firmly against hers, a little more forcefully, perhaps, than he'd originally intended. At first, she didn't make any movement, just tensed up a little bit, allowing Tig to wallow in the moment. Her lips were impossibly soft, softer than he'd originally assumed for someone who spent so much time outdoors. Before he could push the kiss any further, however, Kaya seemed to snap to her senses. She flinched away from his lips, pushing him off her. Of course, keeping with their past history, she slapped him instantly, his face stinging from where her hand had made contact.

When he looked up at her, however, he was half surprised to see more than irritation in her eyes. He might've just been seeing things, but there was almost a pleased twinkle in her eyes.

"What the _fuck_?" she snapped, lips pursed together as she stared at the Sergeant-at-Arms who had just rudely interrupted her movie night with his raging hormones. What the hell was wrong with this guy, anyways? Wasn't he supposed to be the guy who did the dirty work, got shit done, didn't ask questions, didn't feel bad about it? First he'd been crying over a guilty conscience, and now he was popping up in the late night to randomly try and make out with her? Kaya couldn't deny that the kiss had been…pleasant. But still, she didn't know the guy, and the odd attraction she felt towards the man with the brilliant ice blue eyes didn't mean that she was just going to let him burst in and have his way with her.

The slap hadn't done what she'd intended it to do, she could tell by the way he still looked at her, this weird mix of hunger, longing and pain in his eyes. It was the pain that she could see there, the strange longing she had no explanation for that made her stay where she was, staring at him, unaware that she was as confused as he was.

When Kaya didn't make any further move, Tig stepped inside completely and kicked the door closed behind him. She watched him carefully, obviously unsure as to what he was doing there and what he wanted. If he had those answers, he would've given them to her, but there wasn't explanation. Somehow he'd just headed there, for no real reason, and this had seemed the most logical thing to do. Acting before she got her senses and kicked his ass out, he grabbed her hips, pulling her to him and pressing his lips against hers again, desperately hoping for _something_ from her. He couldn't explain why he'd felt so fucking empty recently, but the sweet butts that hung around hadn't done anything to help. For some reason, Kaya had been the next person to pop into his head, the copper skinned woman having been on his mind since he'd woken up in her room.

The arms that draped around his shoulders, hips that pressed back against his, were almost enough to shock him into pulling away…almost. Keeping his lips locked with Kaya's, pleased when she started kissing him back, he pushed her into the nearest solid object—the wall of her hallway. If it had hurt her, she didn't make any comment. Nor did she protest when he pushed a knee between her legs, knotting his hands in her dark hair. It was so soft, softer than any of the crow eaters that hung around the club house, and felt like silk. Jesus, was this was classy ladies hair felt like? Had he been missing out on this just because he had no standards? Without realizing it, Tig had started to work his hands under Kaya's shirt. When he got to her bra, however, the woman tensed and pulled away.

Tig paused, looking down at her, amber eyes glassy and unfocused. She blinked a few times and shook her head, one hand moving to run through her hair, knocking his hands aside. Silently, she dropped her forehead onto his chest, still shaking her head.

"This can't happen," she muttered, Tig letting out a sigh.

"I don't know why you're here…or what you think I can give you that your crow eaters can't, but this isn't going to happen."

Tig huffed, pulling away from her, something that seemed to surprise Kaya as much as him. It didn't make any sense why he managed to hold back around her, but he was currently attributing it to the fact that she'd threatened to seriously injure him. Not to mention that if she wanted to, she could probably end the deal they had going with the Sons. While that wouldn't last forever, Clay would be pissed as hell at him for screwing it up.

"Sorry," he muttered bitterly, running a hand through the unruly mass of black hair atop his head. Kaya didn't reply, and when he looked back, he saw she was staring at him, eyebrows knit together in thought.

"What?" he questioned, the word a little edgier than he'd meant it to be.

"What is it that you did that's eating you up so much?" she questioned, the edgy, authoritative tone gone from her voice and replaced with something surprisingly gentle and calm.

Almost immediately, Tig pulled away from her, Kaya remaining where he'd pushed her up against the wall, amber eyes still locked on him. There was a part of him that wanted to tell her it was none of her damn business, that'd he'd only come over to get laid, but even she seemed to know that wasn't the truth. She didn't offer anything better than any crow eater or sweet butt, but he'd somehow wound up coming to her. The other, much stronger, part of him wanted to tell her everything, explain the guilt that, even after he'd admitted to killing Donna, wouldn't let up; he wanted to explain that weird empty ache in his chest that wouldn't go away no matter how many women he slept with or people he killed, wanted to tell her that the reason he'd really come, now that he thought about it, was because she had been the only person he could recall giving a shit about him. Even if she didn't realize that's what his impression of her had been.

When he didn't reply, Kaya sighed and straightened up. She reached forward, placing one hand gently on either side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Whatever's on your mind, you can't keep it to yourself forever. Shit like that can kill a person, Tig."

Despite that fact that once again, she was being oddly sweet and comforting when she had no reason to be, the only thing that crossed his mind was that she had called him Tig. Not Trager, or asshole, or the myriad of other names she'd used, but Tig. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was getting into him?


	5. The Question Game

_**A/N:** Hello duckies! I'm so sorry that I've disappeared. Spring break ended up not being a good time to sit down and be creative (I completely blame Mass Effect 3 coming out and sucking up all my time. Hey! I had a universe to save!), and school's been a smidgen hectic. Anyway! I've started watching Sons of Anarchy again and got back into the writing groove. This came to me first, but I promise I'll get working on the other two as well._

_Also! I'm beta-ing (I have no idea what the verb would be regarding what a beta does...editing?) for a girl who just published her first fanfic here. It's a Sons of Anarchy fic about Juice, so if you're interested in that, go check her story out. Her pen name is EleanorRose, and the story is called Someone Like You. She's a little scared about publishing her first fic, and I know she'd really appreciate some feedback on her work. So if you'd check that out, it would mean a lot to her (:_

_I want to thank everyone who has so kindly reviewed, favorite-d and added the story-it's much appreciated. Now, without further adieu, here's the much awaited chapter 5!_

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><p>Despite the poverty that choked her people, Kaya's home was surprisingly nice, a fact that he had, apparently, ceased to notice the morning after he'd woken up there. Seated on her couch, he fidgeted slightly, slightly uncomfortable in the strange situation. Women were just things to fuck and send on their way, objects really, just possessions to be passed around, shared, kept—nothing of terrible value. It was a view that he'd gotten from a lifetime of being told that, and one that he wasn't keen on dropping. But as he sat on Kaya's couch, ice blue eyes watching the copper skinned woman pulling out a bottle of tequila and shot glasses before she returned to the sitting area, he couldn't help but wonder if that view only applied to <em>most<em> women, and not the decent ones that were few and far between. Shaking that thought when the woman sat down beside him, he glanced at her suspiciously.

"What the hell is this, therapy?" he snapped, the words harsher than he'd meant them, but Kaya remaining unaffected, apparently used to people using such a tone with her.

"Whatever the fuck you want it to be, dickhead," she replied, pouring each of them a shot and throwing hers back before adding, "Except sex. That shit ain't happening, so just forget about it. You got those whores in your club if you wanna' get your dick wet."

Tig muttered to himself, taking the shot and tossing it back, the familiar burn doing little to ease the fog that seemed to have settled in his head, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he muttered, the woman refilling their glasses. She leaned back against the right arm of the couch, Tig situated deliberately opposite of her, staring at the glasses. When he made no move to explain why he'd just showed up at her doorstep, forcing himself on the woman who'd done nothing to provoke him (except looking so fucking hot and showing it off, only to shove him away), Kaya sighed.

"Alright then, Trager. We're playing the question game then," she said, reaching for the coffee table to grab a hair band, pulling her hair up away from her face. The recent memory of her hair, soft as silk, running between his fingers came unbidden to Tig's mind, but the Sergeant-at-Arms just shoved it away, looking at the Indian woman like she was crazy.

"You fucking high?" he questioned, the question coming out more as a demand, "What the fuck do I look like? Some little 16 year old who wants to play stupid ass games?"

Kaya rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his little outburst, "No, but you're fucking acting like a petulant child. So stop moping about not getting into my panties and fucking let me explain," she snapped, Tig grumbling and downing the shot, the woman arching her brow.

"Might want to slow down and let me explain first, idiot."

"Fuck that shit," he muttered, Kaya shaking her head but dropping it.

"You ask one question, I ask another. You answer truthfully, or you lie," she began, Tig snorting, the dark haired woman interrupting him before he could comment, "_but_, if the other one calls bullshit on a lie, and they're right, you take a shot."

The older man stared at her for a few moments, trying to decide if she was crazy, or just being dumb. Did he seriously look like he wanted to play some dumbass kid's game? Before he could insult her again, however, she spoke up.

"Look, it's just a way to get your mind off whatever shit's going on, okay?" she said, crossing her legs on the couch. Then, with a coy little grin that made Tig's pants tighten, she added, "Who knows. I might just get drunk enough to throw care to the wind and shack up with you."

That was all it took for Tig to agree, not really caring how likely it was to get her to fuck him. Didn't really matter because right then, she was about the most brilliant girl he thought he'd ever met. Even if her game was fucking stupid, she was right—it'd get his mind off all the shit that was going on and, if he was lucky, would get him into her bed.

"Fine," he muttered, not letting her know his change of heart, "Me first."

He thought for a minute before deciding on something docile, pointing at her exposed skin, "Got any ink?" he questioned, Kaya answering with a smirk and a shake of her head.

"Liar," he muttered, the girl arching an eyebrow before taking the shot and throwing it to the back of her throat, refilling both glasses. About to inquire about the ink she apparently had, she lifted her finger, tutting at him, "Uh uh, me next," she chided with another grin.

"What's your name?" she questioned, Tig shooting her a look that practically screamed _'are you really that dumb?'_

"Though we went over that already," he drawled, Kaya rolling her eyes.

"You _real_ name, dumbass."

Tig just huffed and crossed his arms, the woman shooting him a warning glare before he offered it up, "Alexander Trager," he muttered, Kaya arching a brow.

"Alexander, huh?" she questioned, Tig just grunting in response, "Alright then, your turn."

The two went back and forth, lying purposefully now and again just to take some shots. Both of them had gotten away with lies, but overall, Kaya's bullshit meter was obviously finer tuned than his, and he ended up drinking more than he'd intended, the girl letting herself get caught in see-through lies just to keep up with the blue eyed Sergeant. Tig was more than a little surprised to find himself actually enjoying the stupid game she'd forced him into playing, the two sharing more than a few laughs over things the other, or both of them, found amusing. The mood, however, was quickly ruined when Tig ventured into territory that he hadn't realized was sensitive. Not until it was too late, anyway.

"Where's your family?" he questioned, the laughter that had been in Kaya's eyes immediately disappearing. The smile that had been on her face melted away, a grim look seizing her. Tig immediately regretted asking the question, despite the fact that her response had made him curious and that he was supposed to be the guy who just didn't give a shit.

"Nevermi—"

"No, it's alright," she said, rubbing her eyes as though she was suddenly exhausted.

"I had two brothers, both older; I was the baby of the family. Shit was rough when we were kids…our mom did just about every drug on the planet, dad liked to drink. Res wasn't safe back then, lot of stupid factional shit, people fighting for no reason. My mom died when I was 6. Dad got a little drunker than usual, her druggie shit pissed him off, he killed her. Usual stupid sap story," she muttered, the fact that she refused to look him in the eyes painfully evident to Tig.

"Anyways, dad went to prison, brothers kept taking care of me like they'd always done," she continued, not mentioning that she'd had to watch her father brutally murder their mother with a kitchen knife, "Middle brother got shot in the crosshairs of some res gang disagreement, and my brother spent the rest of his life unifying this place. I helped out once I was old enough…he died when I was 18. Last of the guys that just couldn't bear the thought of getting along killed him. Didn't stop what had already started though. We came together, got rid of the people that didn't want to stand with us…we're stronger now."

For a minute, they sat in silence, the girl huffing and taking another shot, Tig arching an eyebrow, "Lie?" he questioned, Kaya shaking her head.

"Nah, just needed it."

Tig nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall of her kitchen, frowning when he realized it was almost 2:30 in the morning, "I kept you up," he pointed out, Kaya shrugging as she stood up. She grabbed the tequila bottle, filling both glasses and pushing them over to him, taking several generous swigs from the bottle before screwing the cap on. The woman disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, the sound of a cabinet closing alerting Tig to the fact that she'd probably called it a night. When she returned, he handed her one of the glasses, the woman arching an eyebrow when he just grinned.

"Still hoping I can get you drunk enough to let me sleep over," he drawled, the woman taking the shot when he'd finished his, shaking her head.

"Nice try, Trager," she replied, taking his glass and bringing them to the kitchen. When she returned, he'd gotten off the couch, mind a little fuzzier than he'd intended from the alcohol, Kaya letting out a quiet laugh at him when he glared at her. Ignoring the look he was giving her, she walked over, tugging his cut off and tossing it onto one of the arm chairs.

"You're not driving home, idiot. Not when you're this far gone," she said, Tig grinning slyly at her comment.

"So I _do_ get to sleep over, eh?" he mused, moving towards the girl who had apparently managed to keep the peace her brothers had given their lives for. She didn't flinch away from him when he hooked his fingers on the waistband of her sweats to pull her close, just eyed him warily, as though the alcohol and late hour had made her too tired to push him away. When he grinned and moved in for a kiss, however, she shifted, slipping from his hands with a surprising ease.

"Yes. On the couch," she said, Tig frowning.

"Aw, come on princess. I don't even get to sleep with you? Even if it's G rated?"

"Somehow, Alex, I don't think you're capable of doing _anything_ G rated…especially when it comes to women and beds."

The Sergeant-at-Arms chuckled, shaking his head when she pointed out that it was she who'd done him a favor by getting his mind off whatever was going on, and especially by not beating the living snot out of him for the move he'd pulled earlier. As he dropped onto the couch, he just grinned and watched her walk to her room, calling out at the last possible minute.

"You know you liked it."

She paused mid-step, shook her head and flipped him off before shutting the door to her bedroom behind her. Mind a million miles away from his earlier troubles, the haze that had clouded his mind and made him second guess himself, Tig realized that he really did owe the girl. She could've been a lot less…humane, than she'd been. Damn. Being in people's debts wasn't generally a place Tig liked to be, but she was damn good looking, so he couldn't really complain.

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><p><em>Don't forget to review lovelies, it would make my day (:<em>


	6. Bed Intruder

_**A/N:** Holy moses, over 500 hits in one day? Not too shabby. Guess there are people out there reading this. This is going to be my last update for Bury My Heart this week. I've got a wicked unpleasant exam coming up on Tuesday, and one of my friends is starring in the opera, so I've been ordered to attend. Needless to say, I'll be busy. But I promise I'll get another chapter up as soon as I can once my exam is over with!_

_Also, a big thanks to anyone who went and took a look at the Juice story I directed you to (:_

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><p>When Kaya woke up the next morning she was unsurprised to find that the liquor she'd consumed very early that morning had left her with a throbbing in the back of her head. Even though it wasn't pleasant, it was a much better option than a full blown hangover. With some important business to smooth out that afternoon, a hangover really wasn't something she could afford to deal with. Eyes still closed, Kaya yawned quietly and shifted towards the edge of the bed, easing herself into consciousness. It was only then, as she began waking up, that she was aware of an arm wrapped around her waist. The more she wriggled around, the tighter it got, pulling her back to its owner. The woman lay still for a split second, a moment of fear that someone had broken in, but then realized that the smell of liquor and cologne was more than a little familiar. It just screamed Tig.<p>

Once more she tried to move out of the Sergeant-at-Arm's grasp, the older man just pulling her back to him, muttering to her as he slept, "Don't go yet…"

A brief moment passed where Kaya thought that perhaps she would stay curled up in his protective grip, until she remembered that she'd made it _quite_ clear that he was supposed to be sleeping separately from her. Wrenching herself free from his arms, a task easier said than done, she stood up, throwing her pillow at the sleeping man. Eyes opened instantly, ice blue meeting fiery amber, and instantly a grin pulled his lips up.

"Well, good morning beautiful."

"What the fuck are you doing in my bed? What part of 'don't sleep with me' didn't you seem to understand, asshole?" she demanded, Tig unfazed by her outburst. Instead he just grinned, leaning back on her headboard, revealing that not only had he violated her space while she was sleeping, but had done so without a shirt…or jeans for that matter.

"And where the hell did your fucking clothes go?"

It was quite clear that Kaya was absolutely fuming; she was upset about the stunt Tig had pulled to put it nicely. Waking up with him in her bed was strange enough, but waking up with him just about naked was something else altogether. She stared at him, absolutely livid, and tried her best not to let her gaze wander from her eyes. From the few moments she'd been conscious of a body behind her, she'd felt muscle rippling beneath his skin—muscles that someone his age shouldn't really have. Doubtlessly he'd be covered in tattoos too, and those had always fascinated her. No, it was better to just stare at him and fume until he got the hell out of her house. Although she was hell bent on not letting her gaze wander, it was painfully obvious that Tig was checking her out. It wasn't as though he made even the slightest attempt to cover it up. Eyes roved over her body, taking in the extra flesh she was sporting in her tiny PJ shorts and tank top, glad that she'd ditched the sweatpants for bed. Every inch of tanned skin was even more glorious than the last, and as he sized up her chest, the woman finally had had enough. She reached forward and grabbed the edge of the blanket before she ripped it off his body, too quick to register that he'd warned her not to. Kaya wasn't sure if she was flattered, embarrassed, or even more pissed off when she saw that Tig was sporting the mother of all morning wood. Throwing his jeans at his crotch, she huffed in what she had decided was just more irritation.

"Jesus Christ, Tig! Can't you even _pretend_ to be polite?" she demanded, the Sergeant just grinning as he chuckled at the Native woman.

"Can't help it. You're fucking hot as hell when you're yelling at me like that…get's me all worked up."

"You're a skeazy mother fucker, you know that?" she snapped, Tig just grinning at her before he reached over to pat the space she'd been in earlier.

"Why don't you just come back here and sleep a little more," he suggested. Kaya just ignored him and gathered up her blanket. Not particularly interested in showing off every inch of skin possible, she found the sweatpants she'd been wearing last night and pulled them on.

"Fuck you, old man."

Tanned skin now covered by sweatpants, she turned to the door and threw it open, not willing to deal with Tig anymore. A tiny voice in the back of her head pointed out that she didn't want the temptation of letting her own eyes do some roving of their own, but it was an idea quickly squelched. However, she didn't make it more than a few steps before strong hands grabbed her upper arms and dragged her back to the room. Before she could react, her back was on the mattress, Tig straddling her to keep her pinned down, anger of his own reflected in his eyes.

"The fuck did you just call me?"

"Fuck you," she snapped, Tig reaching up and grabbing her jaw.

"I asked you a question. I suggest you fucking answer it," he warned.

"Old man. Now get the fuck off me before I shoot you in the fucking face," she snapped, wary of what Tig could do. Her earlier attempts to not pay attention to all his muscles and the strength that he hid so well were futile now. Every inch of his skin pressed against hers was tight, taught muscles tensed up like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. It occurred to Kaya then that he was oddly warm despite the cold gleam in his eyes. Whoever would have known that?

"I'm not an old man," he growled, Kaya arching a brow at him. The young woman laughed and pushed against him, trying in vain to get him off her.

"You're almost old enough to be my father, idiot. That makes you an old man."

"How old are you?" he demanded, eyes boring into her own, age clearly a touchy subject for the Sergeant when he was with younger women. Then again, he was _always_ with younger women. None of the crow eaters could've possibly been older than their early thirties.

"Twenty three," she replied as she tried to wriggle from his grasp, "Now get the hell off me."

Tig stared at her a moment longer, before shifting slightly, letting her sit up as he looked at her, "Twenty three? Really?" he questioned, Kaya rubbing her jaw absently where he'd grabbed her.

"Yeah, why?" she retorted defensively, Tig shrugging.

"Thought you were older."

"Thanks, asshole," she snapped, shoving him as she shifted to get off the bed again. Anger apparently abated now, however, he was back to his original pleas. Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back, Tig forcing her back down onto the bed with him, her face pressed into his shoulder.

"Seriously?" He just laughed at her and grinned.

"Like I said, you're fucking hot as hell when you're all riled up."

Kaya sighed exasperatedly, but for the moment decided to just give in. Maybe if she just let him think he'd won, she'd get the opportunity to escape and get to the kitchen before he came after her again. She really couldn't understand what about the word 'no' seemed to confuse Tig, but assumed it had something to do with the fact that he was used to getting pussy whenever he wanted, from whomever he wanted. Doubtlessly she was something he'd never experience—women that hung around Sons didn't just turn them down when they wanted sex—especially when that Son was the Sergeant-at-Arms who was rather notorious for being cold hearted and just a little bit crazy.

"See? Ain't so bad so long as you're not wriggling around and shit," he commented once Kaya had stopped trying to escape.

The irritation that had clouded her mind like a haze had disappeared almost completely, faded down to just a little annoyance at Tig as she lay there, his arms wrapped firmly around her in case she tried to make a break for it again. Unfortunately, that meant that ignoring the wanderings of her own mind was a little bit harder. She couldn't ignore the traces of a tattoo that she could see in her peripheral vision, or the surprisingly defined abs that pressed up against her body. The guy was definitely near 20 years older than her, almost twice her age, but he still seemed to be in tip top condition. Kaya guessed that being the Sergeant-at-Arms meant being tough as nails. The escape Kaya had planned faded farther and farther from her mind as they lay there on the bed, blanket torn off, air conditioner causing Kaya's skin to break out in little goose bumps. Tig just pulled her closer when she shivered slightly, more from uncontrollable reflex than actual cold, and Kaya didn't bother fighting it.

"Tig?" she questioned, the man making a noise to indicate he was listening, "How many tattoos do you have?"

Tig didn't answer for a few minutes, before he shrugged and muttered, "A few."

"That's not an answer, asshole," she grumbled as he just grinned.

"Yeah yeah…I dunno, never counted. Probably at least five. Less than some of the other guys…"

And so that's how the rest of the morning, and a decent chunk of the afternoon, passed by. The two just lay on the bed, Tig keeping Kaya close (still half expecting her to jump up and run for it, or pull out a gun and threaten him), the two talking every now and again when one of them had a question that came to mind. It was only when Kaya's stomach started making monstrous noises that she ordered Tig to let her go so she could make food. The two ate in relative silence, chatting occasionally, but mainly focused on their food. When Tig finally did head for the door, clothed once more in the jeans, t-shirt and cut he'd been wearing the night before, he realized that, true to her word, Kaya had indeed gotten his mind off all the shit he'd been worried about and the doubt in his mind.

"I get to come over again and sleep over?" he questioned. Kaya rolled her eyes in response to his question and pointed at his bike.

"Out. Now. I'll think about letting you in again…you'll just have to see."

Tig just nodded, "Fair enough, princess," before he headed down the block and back to his bike. As she watched him walk away, Kaya released a heavy sigh. She hadn't intended on enjoying the time she'd spent with the crazy fuck who'd tried to have sex with her the first few minutes he'd met her, but it appeared that it was an inevitable fact. Without having to think about it she knew that if Tig showed up again, there'd be even less resistance.

After all, despite his manners, he wasn't half bad company.

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><p><em>A review would totally make my day (:<br>_

_Just sayin'._


	7. Drop Off

**_A/N:_**_ So...it's been forever since I updated this, and I sincerely apologize to everyone. Between moving back in and getting back into a routine for summer, I've been much busier than I thought. But never fear! I've just come up with a rather devious and exciting twist for this story, so I'm driven to get myself at least to that point in the near future (while I'm still inspired and driven to write, write, write). In an attempt to make up for my awful updating, I've made this one a smidgen longer. _

_Thanks also to all the lovely readers who have reviewed so kindly, and added this story to their favorites and alert lists. It means the world to me. (:  
><em>

When Kaya next saw Tig it was for business. As she drove her dusty, beat up old black pick up into town and to Teller Morrow Auto Repair, the woman realized it was the first time she'd shown up in Tig's space. Every other time they'd run into one another, he'd come unexpected and uninvited into her personal space, usually ruining whatever plans she had for the day. That morning, however, was different. Truck loaded with ammunition and whatever weapons the Res could spare, the young woman was making a run to bring the Sons some apparently much needed relief. She'd heard through the grapevine that their Irish pipeline was in jeopardy, if not permanently ruined, and so she'd decided to throw in some extra ammo and arms for free—a gesture of good will as far as she was concerned. Having the Sons of Anarchy on her side, after all, wasn't something that Kaya was stupid enough to turn down. Even if it meant working her ass off twice as hard.

Pulling into the lot, she ignored the looks that she and her car got as she dropped to the pavement. People like her didn't often hang around town, and certainly didn't come knocking when they needed car repairs. Not to mention that her truck was one long drive shy of collapsing beneath her. If the car and the color of her skin weren't odd enough, she was likely the only woman in the area _not_ bearing as much skin as possible…the kids aside. It didn't escape her attention that the place was locked up tighter than a convent, or that there were clearly several families hanging around. Obviously whatever shit the Sons were in was more serious than she'd originally thought.

"Kaya?"

The woman didn't make much inclination that she'd heard Tig call her name until she'd taken a few steps towards the back of her truck. Taking her time, she opened the hatch up and looked over the boxes and duffels in the bed of the truck before acknowledging Tig.

"Get your ass over here and help a lady," she said, voice languid though her words were clearly not a suggestion.

"What?" he questioned, walking over to her anyways, eyeing the contents of her truck.

"Grab those boxes and show me where you hold Chapel. I got a Christmas present for you," she said, flashing him a quick, mischievous smile.

If her orders had irritated the Sergeant-at-Arms at all, he didn't make it apparent. Tig called over the prospect she'd met earlier, getting a few of the other men to unload the boxes of bullets. Once the bed was empty, save the three duffels that Kaya was holding on to, she and Tig made their way into the clubhouse that was so conveniently close. Apparently Tig was in the minority—most everyone appeared to have been expecting the tan woman to show up, though maybe with some help or backup muscle. When she was led to the Chapel, Tig glanced at her, obviously trying to say something.

"Right, members only, my bad," she said, saving him the weird moment of having to say no. Something was obviously brewing, and Kaya was more than a little eager to just drop off the rest of the goods and get back to the Res.

"So, I hear someone's got a Christmas present for me."

Clay had always been slightly intimidating to Kaya, if only for the fact that he towered over her and was easily twice her size. Even now, when they had a clear cut alliance, he still made her slightly uneasy. There was something in the way he looked at her, like he didn't quite trust her to do what she said. Either way, she had a gift that would hopefully get rid of some of that suspicion, and she nodded with a confident grin.

"You'll find an extra box of ammo for your side arms," she said, dropping her duffels onto the nearest clear table, sliding them towards Clay, "And I brought you this."

When he unzipped the first duffel, he just stared for a moment, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Little birdie told you, eh?" he questioned, Kaya smirking, "Something like that."

"You're a little late, just patched shit up with our Irish dealer," he said, Kaya just nodding with a shrug.

"Then that's three bags of guns you didn't have before. And with the security around here, I'd say it can't hurt," she pointed out, Clay nodding.

"We're still short until everything kicks in again, which should be soon, but still—I appreciate it."

Kaya nodded, "And I appreciate the business, it's mutually beneficial," she replied, glancing around the place, "I'll get out of your way once the prospect finishes unloading the rest of the ammo."

"Appreciate it," Clay replied with a nod.

"I'll see her out," Tig muttered, both Kaya and Clay arching eyebrows at the Sergeant but neither questioning him.

The two got to her truck just as the prospect finished unloading the last crate of ammo. For a moment, Kaya stood outside the driver's door, staring Tig down. When he made no move to do anything but look her over, she rolled her eyes and opened the door, "Best of luck with Zobelle," she said, moving to get into her truck. Before she got far a hand gripped her forearm, pulling her back down. Turning to look at Tig, she wasn't surprised to see him grinning at him. Honestly, the more time she spent around him, the more she wondered if all the talk of him being crazy was more than just empty gossip.

"Decided whether or not you're gonna let me sleep over again?" he questioned, Kaya smirking at him and shaking her head. Of course that was what he wanted to know after not speaking to her for a good handful of days—whether or not he got to sleep over again. Honestly, was this grade school?

"Haven't shown your ugly face in my house again, so I can't decide whether I'll let you invade my personal space again or just shoot you."

"Don't know about that…sounds like some of those odds aren't all together too nice," he mused, smirking at her.

"Guess you'll just have to roll the dice and see how it comes out. Prepare for the worst, pray for the best," she replied, smirking.

"Sounds like an invitation to come over again to me…you inviting me to your house, Kaya?" he replied, grinning again like the half crazed madman he was.

"Open to interpretation I suppose. Try not to do anything too stupid while I'm away, asshole."

Wrenching her arm free of Tig's grip, Kaya hopped into her seat and closed the door, heading off before Tig could change his mind and talk her to death. Kaya's ride home was peaceful, and the rest of her day was uncharacteristically calm. None of the boys were up to any shenanigans, and work continued as though they hadn't all been working overtime to get the Sons shipment out.

By three in the afternoon the next day all the orders for the Res police were completed and Kaya had sent Ashkii to make the delivery. Tired from all the frantic working to fill the Sons order, and ready to take it easy, the young woman gave everyone else the day off. Grateful, they all headed home to hopefully get some much needed R&R. After an extra hour spent cleaning up the trailer and getting everything organized for work the next day Kaya headed back home, eager to have dinner and just take it easy the rest of the day.

Once she'd arrived home her desire to make food for herself was waning in favor of watching a movie and going to bed early. Thankfully, after some poking around in her fridge, she found some leftover lasagna from earlier in the week. Smelling it to make sure it hadn't turned during her hectic week, she tossed it into the microwave to reheat before heading to her bedroom to get changed into sweats and a baggy t-shirt. Reemerging into her kitchen she grabbed her lasagna, a fork and a bottle of beer and headed to her couch. An hour later, and mostly through Shutter Island, the roar of a motor caught Kaya's attention. She stayed where she was on the couch, waiting for it to pass, but when it didn't she was forced to pause the movie. There were only two people who would dare bother her right then—Ashkii with some business to talk to her about, or Tig. The knock on the door forced her up off the couch and she begrudgingly went to the door. She really had just wanted to spend one night of her life relaxing on her own without interference.

Opening the door, she wasn't surprised to see Tig in the doorway grinning at her. What she was surprised to see, or at least somewhat surprised, was that his face was littered with cuts and half formed bruises. Frowning at him, she moved to let him into her house.

"Hey baby, what're you up to?" he chimed, Kaya rolling her eyes.

"Wondering what the hell happened to your face. Cut yourself shaving?" she deadpanned, one brow arched. Tig just laughed and shook his head.

"That's not very nice of you to say. I, uh, had an exchange with some of Zobelle's men," he replied, Kaya rolling her eyes and pointing at the stool at the breakfast bar.

"Sit down. That's a shoddy patch job at best. Honestly, for all the fighting you do I'm surprised you can't clean yourself up better," she said, disappearing into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kid. Pulling out some Neosporin and an assortment of bandages, she worked over the cuts on his face and knuckles, Tig sitting surprisingly still and silent until she was done.

"Kaya, the big bad arms dealer from the Res, patching me up like some mama bear?" he said quietly, clearly teasing her. Rolling her eyes again, Kaya packed the kit up again and headed to the bathroom without a response. Tig was, without a doubt, the most irritating man she'd ever met in her life—business partner or otherwise. Still, she supposed he was decent company.


End file.
